


Buckle Up

by allouette



Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I had a feeling you’d think I was pretty wearing your name, Shelton. Am I right?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buckle Up

As soon as his plane lands and coasts to a stop at LAX, the phone in Blake's pocket beeps. The timing is uncanny, but Blake isn't the least bit surprised. He waits until he's walking through the terminal, hat pulled down low and carryon slung over his shoulder, to dig his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and check the message.

 _‘Where are you?’_

Seeing Adam’s name makes him smile but the question is a little ridiculous, like he doesn't already know exactly where Blake is right at that very moment.

_‘Airport.’_

Blake texts back the obvious answer and follows the signs to the proper baggage claim. He gets a reply almost immediately and switches his phone to vibrate to avoid any unwanted attention, picking a nice spot against the wall to wait for his bags to appear.

_‘Why are you so fucking slow? I've been waiting for hours and you're just taking your slow ass sweet time.’_

_‘Oh I'm sorry, princess. Next time I'll fly the damn plane myself, happy?’_

When his phone buzzes in his hand again, Blake reads the text and has to stop himself from laughing out loud. But he doesn’t have the power to stop himself from grinning at his phone like a loon, though.

_‘No, not happy. I have a bottle of patron on the table next to me and one hand on my belt buckle, and you're fucking around at the airport. Don't make me start without you.’_

_‘Well now I know you're a goddamn liar cause you don't own a belt buckle.’_

Blake's phone buzzes again, but he spots his bag coming around the carousel and snatches it up quickly. He waits until he's out of the airport, away from the prying eyes of strangers and safely in the backseat of the car sent to pick him up, before he checks his phone again.

_‘You caught me. But this one's new and especially for you.’_

Blake swears under his breath and scrubs a hand over his face. He's fucking exhausted from treating his tours like one giant college keg party, he hasn't shaved in days, he really needs to take a shower, and here Adam is wanting to play games. Typical. Figures. 

_‘Dare I ask what it is?’_ he finally replies, and less than a minute goes by before he feels the vibration of an incoming message in his hand.

_‘You can ask but it won't be as fun if I tell you. You know you like my surprises Blake.’_

And oh yes, he does. He loves Adam's surprises and how they always manage to knock him off his feet, or down onto his knees.

_‘Now you’re just being cocky.’_

_‘Wait until you see it and then we can talk about cocky, Shelton. Tell your driver to hurry the fuck up.’_

Blake loses all sense of pride when he leans forward and asks the driver if there’s any possible way he might be able to drive a little bit faster. He doesn’t think about it until he’s being buzzed through the gate at Adam’s house that he never even told the driver where to go in the first place. Goddamn Adam and his fucking games – Blake’s playing along whether he wants to or not. _Or not_ would never be an option, of course, but still. Christ.

It just figures that once Blake rings the doorbell, he has to stand there and wait, his bags heavy on his shoulder; he’s two seconds away from kicking the damn door like a child before it finally swings open, and there stands Adam in his too tight jeans and a plain white t-shirt and what the fuck?

“What the hell did you do?” Blake asks and reaches out, rubbing one of his hands over Adam’s shaved head.

“Oh, you know, just one of those things. It’ll grow back. You look like shit,” Adam replies with a smile, closing the door once Blake is inside.

“Yeah, thanks a lot. We can’t all be pretty little rockstars all the time.”

Adam rolls his eyes, taking one of Blake’s bags before he heads upstairs, the heavy thump of Blake’s boots following close behind him. Blake doesn’t say a word as he follows Adam into his bedroom, and a quick glance around tells him he wasn’t lying about the bottle of patron sitting on the bedside table. He watches as Adam sets down his bag and picks up the bottle, pouring two shots then holding one out for him to take.

“Drink. Then go take a shower. You look like you need it.”

“What kind of… You know what, I’m not even goin’ to touch that one. I’m lettin’ that one slide, man,” Blake says and takes the shot glass from Adam’s hand, throwing it back without a second thought. The tequila burns a little on the way down but in a pleasant way, and Blake rubs Adam’s head again before he disappears into the bathroom.

*** 

There’s music playing when Blake comes back out of the bathroom feeling more human than when he went in, his hair wet and curling, a towel wrapped snug around his waist. Adam is lying on the bed, but as soon as he sees Blake, he sits up on his knees, making no attempt to hide the way he gives Blake a smooth once over with his eyes as he reaches for the tequila bottle again.

“Feel better?”

“A lot, actually. Why, so you won’t feel so bad about gettin’ me drunk?”

Adam shrugs and smiles, holding out one of the two shot glasses, licking his lips. “Something like that, yeah.”

Blake rolls his eyes and drinks, this one going down a lot smoother than the first. “Shoulda known the second you said patron that I was in trouble.”

“You know I don’t drink that cheap country Jose shit. If you’re going to drink tequila, I say do it right.”

“Hey, point taken, man. I’m not gonna argue over expensive liquor that I don’t have to pay for.”

In Blake’s head, he has the plan to retrieve clean clothes from his bag and get dressed - pants, boxers at the very least because he’s not like Adam. He doesn’t have the same fond affection for nudity and walk around without clothes on all the time. But when he moves and Adam snags him around the wrist, he realizes that his plans and Adam’s are two entirely different things, and well, his plans apparently don’t mean shit right now.

“So, you know, here’s what I’m thinking, and you can tell me if we’re on the same page here. You’re in my house, drinking my tequila, using my shower, and you haven’t even kissed me hello yet. From where I’m sitting, there’s something very wrong with this picture,” Adam says, his fingers still curled around most of Blake’s wrist and it’s really ridiculous how big Blake’s hands are.

Blake smirks because he’s still exhausted and feeling the tequila now, and he steps up closer to the edge of the bed, his free hand coming up to rub over the short hair on Adam’s head again. If he’s not careful, that could quickly become a thing, but at the moment, he doesn’t really care. “Why Adam, I didn’t know you were such a softie.”

“Fuck you and kiss me, you overgrown jackass.”

There is nothing sweet about the kiss when their lips meet. It’s deep and hungry, all too consuming as Blake’s hand wraps around the back of Adam’s neck to hold him in place. Adam tastes like tequila and something sweeter as Blake’s tongue fucks into his mouth, and all Adam can do is groan as Blake practically sucks the air from his lungs. It feels like a small favor when Blake eases back and licks his lips, and it’s then that Adam realizes he’s been clutching Blake’s wrist the entire time.

“Pain in your ass satisfied now?” Blake asks, and Adam’s answering grin is gleeful. “Oh Christ, don’t answer that one. Lord your head ain’t right.”

“Dude, you’re the one that said it,” and Adam is filling the shot glasses again, which would make this three tequila, _floor_.

Blake barely feels this one go down, and he’s all warm and loose as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of Adam’s jeans and tugs him closer. “I think there’s somethin’ you should be showin’ me, right?”

And of course Adam being Adam doesn’t do things the easy way, has to turn it into a show. Instead of just lifting his shirt up a little, letting Blake get a look at the buckle on the front of his low-rise jeans, he pulls his shirt up and off, tossing it aside. Then he leans back, legs spread a little but still on his knees, palms pressed flat against the bed. The buckle shines silver against the dark denim and the black of Adam’s belt, and something in Blake’s head literally breaks when he sees his name right there – _Blake Shelton_ surrounded by circular disks; but no, when Blake gets a closer look, he sees they’re the round bottom of bullet shells. 

“So what do you think? Is it me or not so much?” Adam asks casually, and Blake needs a second because Adam knows, he fucking knows what he’s doing, knows exactly what he looks like right now spread out on the bed this way. When Blake’s hands land on his thighs, Adam smirks like the smug bastard he is. “I had a feeling you’d think I was pretty wearing your name, Shelton. Am I right?”

“You really are one cocky motherfucker, aren’t you?” Blake asks, but there’s a certain gravel in his voice that lets Adam know just how much he has gotten to him, and Blake’s hands are sliding up along his thighs to his hips, and Blake’s eyes are still trained on the shining buckle that sits just above the growing bulge in Adam’s jeans.

Adam swallows hard; there’s not much else he can do in this position at the moment. “You’re the one about to get off on your own name.”

There’s no venom at all in Blake’s voice when he comes back with, “hey, fuck you,” and he has all but pushed Adam flat onto his back. He hovers there for a moment, leaning over Adam like he’s going to kiss him again, half kneeling on the bed, but instead he reaches for the bottle of tequila and pours some into both shot glasses. 

Blake throws his shot back and closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the heat that spreads through him as the alcohol makes its way down. When he opens his eyes again, Adam is watching him, just waiting to see what he does next. “Open,” Blake says, one thumb sliding along Adam’s lower lip as he picks up the other glass, slowly pouring the tequila into Adam’s mouth. As soon as he swallows, Blake is kissing him again, chasing the liquor with his tongue.

Their kisses always seem to be a fight for dominance, one that neither of them want to win or lose. After their first kiss, Adam learns it’s something Blake really, really likes to do, and he approaches it with the same crazy intensity he does everything else he’s passionate about. Kissing Blake is always an experience, always heated and thoroughly involved using lips and tongue and teeth. Even when he’s drunk, he manages to find the coordination to do it right. There’s no such thing as a sloppy kiss from Blake, unless he’s playing around and does it on purpose. Adam doesn’t know what that’s like; he doesn’t know anything less than this, what he always gets - the kisses that make his toes curl and steal his breath away and leave him aching in their wake.

Adam lets his hands slide over the broad expanse of Blake’s back, down until they hit the soft terrycloth towel still wrapped around his waist. Feeling it makes Adam smile against Blake’s mouth, amused all of a sudden, and he doesn’t realize he has laughed until Blake leans back a little.

“What’s so damn funny?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing a towel.”

“Probably the first and only time I’ll ever be naked before you. But I gotta say, I really do like what you’re wearin’ right now,” Blake says and pulls out of Adam’s arms, shifts so he can admire the belt buckle again. He trails his fingers down along Adam’s chest, fingertips tracing tattoos for a moment before they skip down to the flat his stomach, circling his navel. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when he feels Adam twitch beneath him. “Where’d you get this thing from, anyway?”

“I have my amazing ways,” Adam says, his hips lifting just slightly as Blake’s fingers trace over a few of the letters of his name. “C’mon, I did this for you. Don’t be a tease.”

Adam lets out a hiss when Blake drags his palm over the front of his jeans, and all Blake can do is smirk and let the smartass in him take over for a minute. He just can't resist, even as he opens the belt buckle - _his name, jesus christ_ \- and pops open the button on Adam's jeans.

“You know if you didn't insist on free ballin', you wouldn't be so damn uncomfortable right now,” Blake says, slowly tugging the zipper down.

“I really fucking hate you sometimes,” Adam bites out, doing everything he can to not squirm as Blake teases him on purpose. It's always on purpose.

“Nah, you don't,” Blake replies as he pulls Adam's cock free, then swallows it down in one swift move.

Adam groans out loud and fists his hands in Blake's curly hair. “Oh my god, no I don't.”

And he really doesn't when he's up on his hands and knees in the middle of the bed, and Blake has nowhere to go but to slide on home. It's hot and tight and so fucking perfect, Blake has to take a few seconds to regain his composure. But Adam's having none of that - fuck waiting - as he clenches his muscles around Blake's cock and rocks back against him.

“Fucking move, goddamn it,” he growls, and the sharp bite of Blake's teeth at the back of his neck is enough to shut him up. For just a second, at least.

Adam likes the feel of large hands on his hips, calloused fingers gripping just a little too tight. He waits until they get a good rhythm going, a nice steady push pull of bodies, until Blake is mouthing kisses and scraping beard burn along his spine to start talking again.

“Fuck, Shelton, why's it gotta be like this, huh? You just manhandle me into position and I don't even get to put my hands on you, how fucking fair is that?”

Blake smiles somewhere between Adam's shoulder blades, and there's a definite whine of protest when he starts to slow down, his hands sliding from Adam's hips up along his sides. "D'ya want me to stop?"

“I might kill you if you do. More, god, if I can't touch you, at least make it worth my while.”

Blake snorts softly, one of his arms wrapping around Adam's chest, his breath hot against the other man’s ear. “Hey, Adam?”

“What?”

“Shut up,” he says, punctuating the reply with a hard thrust of his hips. It makes Adam cry out, but he stops talking for the time being; when Blake lets his hand slip from Adam’s side to land on the bed, Adam finds it with one of his own, fingers twining together.

The thing about Blake is, when he's been drinking, he isn't really good at thinking things through. Less thinking, more doing is where his head usually is when there's alcohol involved. So when he realizes he doesn't want this to end without being able to see Adam's face, realizes how much he'd really like to kiss Adam right about now, he comes to a sudden stuttering halt. Adam curses out loud and squeezes Blake's hand, presses back against him to get him to move again.

“No, what the hell, why did you--“

“Hang on,” Blake says and eases back, pulling away. “Just gotta...” And then he's rolling Adam over onto his back, hiking fine toned legs up around his waist just before he sinks into that hot body again with a groan.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, you read my mind,” Adam breathes, his legs tightening their hold, arms winding around broad shoulders. “Don't hold back now.”

Blake presses a kiss to Adam's mouth, teeth scraping over an already bitten, swollen lower lip. “When have I ever?” he asks and steals another kiss before Adam can answer.

It's all hard and fast after that, grunts and groans replacing actual words. Their hands slips on sweat slick skin, blunt nails scratching lightly, fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise. And when Blake feels himself getting close, too close, he snakes a hand between them and wraps his fingers around Adam's cock. It's gorgeous, the way Adam arches beneath him and bucks into his touch. Pale skin is flushed red, brighter in spots that have been met by Blake's mouth or the stubble lining his jaw, a nice contrast just like the ink of Adam’s tattoos.

When Adam gasps out an, “oh god,” and tangles his fingers in Blake's hair, yanking his head down for another searing kiss, Blake knows he's gone. He swallows Adam's groan a moment later, hot come spilling over his fingers, muscles clenching insanely tight around his cock. A few more deep thrusts and he's following Adam over the edge, a wicked spiral all the way down. He gives himself just a second to shudder and twitch before he's forcing himself to move off of Adam so he doesn't crush him under dead, blissed-out weight.

As soon as Blake's back hits the bed, he throws an arm over his eyes and tries to catch his breath, ignoring the way the room seems to spin around him. The longer he lays there, the closer he gets to passing right the fuck out, and he vaguely wonders if Adam would think he's rude if he actually did end up falling asleep right then because there usually isn't sleep involved when they do this. Adam doesn't seem to be moving either, though, so Blake thinks he might be safe. He feels himself start to drift off, he's so close, when Adam's voice cuts through the fog in his brain.

“Are you falling asleep right now?” he asks but at least he sounds as wrecked as Blake feels, and Blake just grunts in response. 

He hears Adam groan softly and shift around next to him, grabbing the discarded towel still hanging over the edge of the bed for hasty cleanup. Blake lets his arm fall to the side and when Adam settles down again, he's covering them with a blanket and using Blake's arm as a pillow.

“You can cuddle if you wanna,” Blake mumbles softly without opening his eyes. “Or are you a spooner? You'd have to be the little spoon, though.”

“Fuck you, giant spoon.”

“I think we just did that,” Blake says as he rolls over onto his side, his arm curling around Adam's shoulders as he does the same, the two of them pressed comfortably together.

There’s something really kinda perfect about the way Adam fits against him, and the warmth from his body and the blanket covering them is just enough to lull Blake into sleep almost instantly. If he tightens his arms around Adam just a little before he’s completely out, well, that’s okay, too. He doesn’t hear Adam complain.

**Author's Note:**

> The [belt buckle](http://i.imgur.com/P4afx.jpg) in question because it actually exists.


End file.
